Beer and Deception
by vickitata14
Summary: Arthur begins to suspect that spending time in the tavern is not really what Merlin is up to. With a little help from Sir Gwaine, Merlin must try to keep the excuse alive. Rated T for drinking. NO SLASH.
1. Busted

Morning dawned over Camelot as a gangly, dark-haired young warlock strode whistling through the castle. The day promised to be a good one. Or, at the very least, it promised to be better than the last one, which, Merlin had to admit, was not actually all that hard.

The previous day still ricocheted around his head in the form of what Merlin suspected was a mild concussion. As often happened, some disgruntled fellow had dreamed up a hare-brained plot to murder the king, Merlin had gotten wind of it, and magic had made its inevitable-and highly illegal-appearance. The only thing Merlin had to show for his involvement was an obnoxious ringing in his ears. Nevertheless, he grinned and whistled as he walked to work. King Arthur remained safe due to Merlin's magic, and Merlin's magic remained secret due to his own exceptional skill and discretion.

Or so Merlin liked to tell himself. The truth was that Merlin's magical escapades remained secret mostly because of Arthur's continued belief that his manservant was an incurable drunkard who spent most of his free time, and a good deal of his other time, in the tavern. Merlin never understood why his guardian, Gaius, chose to explain his charge's absence to the king in this manner, but it worked, so he let it be. He only hoped Arthur would not decide to punish him by throwing things at his aching head.

Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers and stuck his head in, ready to withdraw should any projectiles be forthcoming. No heavy objects came hurtling towards him. He took this as a good sign and stepped all the way inside. Arthur stood at the window, back to the door, fingers drumming pensively on the pommel of the sword hanging at his side.

"You're dressed," Merlin observed, stupidly.

"Yes, Merlin." Sarcasm laced the king's voice, but his face expressed little as he turned to confront his servant. "I'm not completely useless. Although," he continued pointedly, "I do know some people who fit that exact description."

"Well." Merlin attempted a chuckle. "I'd hate to be them."

"Yes. I would too."

Arthur stepped slowly towards him and Merlin braced himself. When no blow fell, he cracked one eye open and peered up at Arthur. He decided not to push his luck and bit back several smart comments, opting to meekly await any further admonition.  
"All right, spit it out. Where were you yesterday?" Arthur spoke quickly and Merlin knew he expected a quick answer. Unfortunately, it was always difficult to determine how much Arthur knew or might suspect. Merlin decided to play for time.

"What, Gaius didn't tell you?"

"Gaius told me that you were in the tavern."

Merlin sighed. At least it wouldn't be too hard to fake a hangover today. "I wish I could deny it," he began dramatically, "but Gaius was absolutely-"

"I sent Gwaine to fetch you," Arthur interrupted. "You were nowhere to be seen."

"Well," Merlin spluttered a bit, struggling to think on his feet, "you know me. Can't hold my ale. Went home pretty quick." He attempted a rueful grin.

"The bartender said you hadn't set foot in there all day."

Totally confounded, Merlin stood with his mouth slightly agape.

"Furthermore-this is the really interesting bit, you'll love this-he had no idea what Gwaine was talking about when he mentioned your previous visits to that establishment. What do you make of that?"

Merlin swallowed. As much as he disliked the tavern excuse-it gave a rotten impression-it had been a convenient one. And if he couldn't preserve it, he'd have to come up with a new one on the spot. He swallowed again, hating himself for what he was about to say.

"I've...I've been paying him off," he muttered.

"What?!" It was hard to tell whether Arthur was about to laugh or become furious.

"I-er-I've been paying the bartender to cover for me. Just in case, you know, you decided to go looking for me. Which you did! So I was right!"

"And," Arthur cut off his ramblings, "you've just blown the whole thing by confessing it to me. You really are a complete idiot, Merlin."

"Yes, sire." Merlin inclined his head.

"You're a marvel, Merlin," the king continued to muse out loud. "I often wonder if you can possibly be a stupid as you seem."

"Yes, sire." Eager to escape the situation, Merlin seized a hamper of laundry and made for the door. "I'll just go take these to be washed."

"Merlin!"

"Yes, sire."

"Those are clean."

Merlin closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and turned back to face Arthur. He set down the hamper, then straightened up and flashed his most winning smile. "Just testing you!"

Arthur was not amused. "Go muck out my horses."

"Yes, sire." Relieved to be free to go, Merlin turned and opened the door. Just as he was about to slip out, something heavy struck his head.

"And polish my boots, Merlin!"


	2. Again

Merlin waited a few weeks after the near-demise of his alibi to try to remedy the situation. Fortunately, nothing happened in that period requiring him to employ it sooner. One rainy day, in the middle of the week, when he deemed that nothing important was happening, he slept late-he was going to be in trouble anyway-dressed himself more sloppily than usual and ambled out of his room. He didn't quite make it to the door before being accosted by his ever-suspicious guardian.

"And where do you think you're sailing so blithely off to?" Gaius demanded, one eyebrow making a bid for his hairline, and mouth pin-straight. "It's nearly noon, Arthur will have your head."

"I'm going to the tavern," Merlin called over his shoulder, leaving the bewildered physician to stare pointlessly at the door.

He strode through the castle, hoping not to run into anybody important.

"Merlin!" Sir Gwaine's unmistakable and well-exercised voice rang through the corridor. _Important? Knight of Camelot. Yes. Dangerous to the plan?_ The corners of Merlin's mouth turned up in a mischievous smile. _Maybe not._ He turned.

"Hello, Gwaine! Just...on my way to work!"

"O-ho," Gwaine laughed, "Then good luck to you."

Merlin decided to play dumb and settled for what he hoped was an expression of polite puzzlement.

"Arthur's in a foul mood," the knight continued. "Apparently his uncle made some slight towards the lady Guinevere at breakfast, and you know how that gets him riled up. In fact," Gwaine fingered his sword-hilt, "I'd like to take a swing at Aggravaine myself..."

"Wouldn't we all," Merlin muttered under his breath. He didn't trust the king's uncle. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it at the moment and he had more pressing issues to deal with.

Gwaine chuckled. "Well the knights are none too fond of him. Arthur, on the other hand, is none too fond of anybody this morning. Something about," his eyes gleamed with mirth, "a lazy, bone-headed, good-for-nothing excuse for a manservant, and the unthinkable fate of having to dress his own royal self. You know," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I wouldn't even go to work today if I were you."

"What?!" This was more than Merlin had expected or even hoped for.

"Seriously. You're going to be in trouble anyway, why not give yourself a day off? Not like you never do it."

Tired indignation made a feeble attempt at asserting itself. If only they knew what Merlin really did on his "days off." He had been poisoned, enchanted, thrown against walls, left to die in the woods, and what did everybody else think? That he was in the tavern drinking himself under the table.

"Come on, Merlin," Gwaine wheedled, "Let Arthur take your head off tomorrow. Go have a drink."

"Now you're just making fun of me!"

"Yes." Gwaine conceded cheerfully. "But it's dull as ditchwater around here today and I wouldn't mind a drink myself. So what do you say, Merlin, for old times' sake?"

Merlin laughed. Beneath the scarlet cloak and chain mail, Gwaine was still the same impulsive young man who took on thugs twice his size in drunken brawls and sent the tavern-bill to Arthur as a joke. Sometimes Merlin forgot it-things had changed since Arthur became king-but Gwaine had been Merlin's friend and equal before he was Arthur's.

"Very well, old friend," he agreed, "How can I refuse a Knight of Camelot?"

Gwaine threw his arm about Merlin's shoulder. "That's the spirit!"

Two hours later, Merlin felt decidedly ill, but Gwaine was still going strong. Three tankards deep-at Gwaine's insistence-he was far past his limit, since he hadn't had time for a drink in months. The tankards sitting empty before his friend numbered well over that. Merlin groaned feebly just thinking about it. Gods, this was a terrible alibi.

"Gwaine," he mumbled, tugging on the other man's cloak, "we should go. You need to sober up before-" he hiccuped, "before the evening patrol."

"Ah, Merlin." Gwaine slung his arm over the miserable manservant. "What a life you lead. You know, you can't do this sort of thing when you're a knight."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped you."

Gwaine ignored his grumbling. "You know, maybe if Arthur did this sometime, he'd understand..."

The door slammed open and suddenly the entire tavern echoed with the sound of chairs scraping the floor as everybody got to their feet.

"As you were." The newcomer made his way across the room to murmurs of "Your Majesty," and the quiet buzz of people settling down again in wonder. Gwaine surreptitiously pushed about a third of his empty mugs in front of Merlin.

"When my manservant goes missing, I've learned to take it as an inevitable occurrence." Arthur's voice was deadly calm. "Imagine my surprise, however, when Sir Leon informed me, about an hour ago, that one of my knights was nowhere to be found. Gwaine and Merlin missing, the same day, at the same time. Could it be mere coincidence?" He paused for effect, looking the miscreants up and down. His eyes fell on the number of tankards on the table. "Apparently, not."

"Arthur," Merlin began, unsure what he was going to say.

"Don't you think you're in enough trouble already, Merlin, without opening your big, stupid mouth?"

"Arthur," Gwaine cut in, speech more than a little bit slurred.

"Gwaine, I'm just not sure which of you is the bigger idiot right now," Arthur stated. "This is appalling behavior for a Knight of Camelot. I expected better from you."

"Yes sire." Even Sir Gwaine knew when to bow his head and bite his tongue.

Arthur sighed. "Go see if you can get something from Gaius to sober up before the evening patrol."

Gwaine bowed unsteadily and made his way from the tavern. Arthur turned back to Merlin, who stood with his face screwed up against the pain in his stomach.

"Come here, Merlin." The look in Arthur's eyes belied the casual tone of his voice.

Merlin grimaced and shuffled around the table to stand before the king.

"So. You decided to take the day off and go to the tavern."

"Yes sire."

"As you are wont to do."

"Yes sire."

Arthur craned his neck to look once more at the number of tankards on the table. "I didn't know you could drink that much, Merlin."

Merlin couldn't help himself. "You drive me to it, sire."

As was often the case, it really wasn't worth it.


End file.
